The Journal

- 1 -

Kathleen pulled into her spot in the parking ramp and checked her appearance in the rearview mirror. She was quickly satisfied that her long, light brown hair was still secured firmly in a French twist.
She was just about to open her door when her friend, Becky, pulled into the space beside her. Smiling at her, Kathleen got out and locked her car doors.
“Wow, it is a hot one today,” Becky said as she approached her. “Just another Summer day in Alabama, I guess.”
“I guess,” Kathleen replied.
Kathleen and Becky both worked at Gellerton Bank, which sat directly above the parking ramp. Becky was the Chief Teller on the bank’s ground floor, while Kathleen, a fifth generation co-owner, had the large corner office on the seventh floor. The two had been friends since high school and had renewed their friendship when Becky was hired by the bank manager.
As the ladies approached the elevator, Kathleen reached into her purse and pulled out a very smart looking pair of non-prescription glasses.
“I hate those things,” Becky said shaking her head. “Do you realize that just by slipping those on every morning, you are taking womankind back about 50 years?”
“You know why I do it.”
“Yes, I do, and I think it is pathetic that your Board of Directors and your cousin believe that an attractive woman cannot also be intelligent enough to run a bank.”
“Wait a minute,” Kathleen said smiling. “Does that mean you think that women with glasses can’t be attractive?”
The elevator doors opened as Becky began to adjust her own glasses.
“I didn’t mean…” she stuttered.

- - - - -

Kathleen walked down the seventh floor corridor, past large paintings of the bank’s past owners. Although she could list each of her ancestors from memory, she rarely looked at them anymore.
“Good morning, Ms. Robertson,” said Alice, her assistant.
“Good morning, Alice. Are there any messages for me this morning?”
“No, ma’am, but Mr. Sinnip would like to see you right away.”
Kathleen rolled her eyes.
Mr. Donald Sinnip was Kathleen’s step-cousin and the other co-owner of the bank. Her father and his stepmother had been siblings. Donald had been adopted by Kathleen’s aunt when he was only in elementary school.
Donald was fifteen years older than she was and the two of them saw things very differently. It did not help their relationship that Kathleen held 51% of the interest in the bank, to Donald’s 49%. Two years ago, when she had graduated from college with a Master’s degree in Finance, her father had brought her onboard. After she shadowed him for a year, he retired and passed his 51% to her. Donald Sinnip made it very clear that he didn’t think her mature enough to assume the responsibilities. Her father had disagreed.
“I will head down after I’ve had my coffee,” she muttered to Alice as she headed to her office. “I’m going to need…”
“Is that Kathy?” she heard Donald ask as he approached. “Did I hear Kathy’s voice?”
Although no one else called her Kathy, Donald insisted on it. It was just one of the ways that he propagated the image of her as merely a child playing in a grown-up world.
“Hello, Donald,” she said with a fake smile. “Did you want to see me?”
“Yes,” he said. “We need to speak right away. There are a couple of large foreclosures that need your signature before we can proceed.”
When the bank had been founded by their great-great grandfather, it had been part of the charter that all owners’ signatures must be on a document entitled Statement of Intent to Serve a Notice of Default before a Notice of Default could be served on a borrower. Kathleen loathed signing them, especially when someone’s home was on the line.
“Yes, alright,” she said as she followed him further down the hall.
“Ms. Robertson,” Alice called. “Don’t forget, you have a 9:30 appointment with that Pastor Harrison from Boston.”
“Thank you, Alice. I will be back in just a few minutes.”
Although not as large as hers, Donald’s office always felt cold and unfeeling. Because of this, Kathleen rarely stepped foot in it.
When they entered, he went around to the other side of his desk and placed three small piles of paper in front of her. She looked down at them and reached to pick up the first pile.
“These are just standard,” he said, handing a pen to her.
“How far behind are the payments for this one?” she asked.
Donald sat down heavily in his large, leather chair.
“Come on, Kathy. We’ve been over this before. There is no need for you to worry about such things. The Board and I have been over all the information. It is time to foreclose on these properties.”
“You and the Board? When?”
He sat up in his chair, obviously annoyed.
“Kathy, please, I have an important meeting this morning. Would you just sign the papers so that I can dispose of these matters?”
She placed the first pile back where it had been, pushed her glasses to the very top of the bridge of her nose, and pulled herself up to her full height.
“It is my understanding that as co-owner and co-President of the bank I am to be informed of all meetings with the Board of Directors. Why wasn’t I told there was a meeting?”
“We didn’t think you would be interested in all of the affairs of the bank, my dear. We weren’t trying to exclude you. We just figured you had other things you needed to tend to, what with your saintly sister’s death and all.”
Anger filled her entire body as she threw his pen on the desk.
“How dare you,” she said through clenched teeth.
Sara, Kathleen’s sister, had died with her husband in a plane crash just three months prior. Kathleen thought she saw a small glimpse of a smile on Donald’s lips at her lack of self-control. She chastised herself as she calmly walked over and picked up the three piles of papers off the desk.
“I will review these thoroughly tonight and get back to you tomorrow,” she said as she turned to leave.
Amy, Donald’s assistant, smiled at her sweetly when she walked out. In her way, she was trying to apologize for her boss’s behavior. Kathleen returned her smile and headed to get coffee.
When she walked into the break room, she was surprised to see the back of someone she did not recognize pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was tall, but not thin.
While she waited with papers in hand, he slowly stirred sugar and cream into his coffee, completely oblivious to her presence.
His thick brown hair was neatly trimmed and lightly touched the collar of his suit jacket as he looked around for a garbage can for his plastic stir stick.
“Right there,” Kathleen offered softly, as she pointed to a plastic can in the corner of the room.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said in an accent that gave away he was not from Alabama or anywhere in the South for that matter. “I didn’t realize anyone else was…”
As he looked through her glasses and into her blue eyes, she felt something shoot through her. She immediately looked down.
“…in here,” he finished. “I’m sorry. You must think I am so rude.”
Kathleen headed for the coffeemaker.
“No, don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to sound light. “No problem.”
She poured herself a cup and added a little cream.
“So, are you from Personnel?” she asked as she stirred.
“Oh, no,” he said smiling. “I am here to see Kathleen Robertson. Her secretary told me I could come down and get a cup of coffee if I liked.”
Kathleen tried not to choke as she sipped her coffee.
Here to see me? she thought. Should I recognize him?